


Waving Back at Me

by Jemsquash



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Robin (Comics)
Genre: Alfred technically doesn't appear but boy does he make his presence felt, Emotionally repressed brothers bond over dads death, Gen, reluctantly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-04
Updated: 2018-11-04
Packaged: 2019-08-17 12:26:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16516475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jemsquash/pseuds/Jemsquash
Summary: (I invaded iphoenixrising ABO AU and tried to make the last issue of Tim’s Robin run less depressing. It's way more fluffy and family based than I had aimed for but I kinda like it.)Jason wanted to be angry, that his old access code opened the side tunnel to the Bat Cave. The audacity, of not bothering to change the locks when Drake had to know he’d try to sneak in through the cave instead of coming around to the mansion and knocking on the front door. But instead of feeling his temper rise and his jaw tighten, all Jason felt was resignation. Drake had him by the balls and he had to know it. First the Replacement had beaten him fair and square, tossing Jason into jail and not Arkham as Dick would have undoubtedly preferred. Then he had ended the gang war Jason had encouraged, beaten the asshole who had stolen Jason’s Red Robin costume, taken down a bunch of other morons and rammed home the fact that Tim Drake was everything Jason Todd wasn’t by giving him the access code to escape jail.Bruce would approve, he was big on sanctimonious and ultimately pointless gestures. Or rather Bruce would have approved.Because Bruce was dead.





	Waving Back at Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wintersnight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wintersnight/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Distractions II: Tumblr Edition](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10261475) by [wintersnight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wintersnight/pseuds/wintersnight). 



> Unlike canon Stephanie does not follow Bruce’s idiotic instructions to make Tim better by plotting against him but is off hunting for a missing Cassandra Cain. And Tim manages to rescue Armstrong’s siblings before they get blown up with only minimal burns to his back. His pretty hair is safe. His sanity less so.  
> Dick is dealing with some Twoface drama underground and has basically abandoned Tim to do everything with just Alfred as backup. Kon and Bart are still dead, life is awful and Jason was the most supportive member of the family at the time, this being before he hears Bruce’s last message to him and dives off the deep end for the whole Battle of the Cowl nonsense. I have no idea where Daiman and Barbara are.

 

 

Jason waited until the camouflaged door was already starting to shut again before he finally revved the bike and drove into the darkness. He didn’t need the headlight to see in the narrow access tunnel. The helmet he had taken had built-in night vision and besides, he had helped this tunnel get plotted and dug, a lifetime ago when he was shorter and wore even shorter pants.

Jason wanted to be angry, that his old access code opened the side tunnel to the Bat Cave. The audacity, of not bothering to change the locks when Drake had to know he’d try to sneak in through the cave instead of coming around to the mansion and knocking on the front door. But instead of feeling his temper rise and his jaw tighten, all Jason felt was resignation. Drake had him by the balls and he had to know it. First the Replacement had beaten him fair and square, tossing Jason into jail and not Arkham as Dick would have undoubtedly preferred. Then he had ended the gang war Jason had encouraged, beaten the asshole who had stolen Jason’s Red Robin costume, taken down a bunch of other morons and rammed home the fact that Tim Drake was everything Jason Todd wasn’t by giving him the access code to escape jail.

Bruce would approve, he was big on sanctimonious and ultimately pointless gestures. Or rather Bruce would have approved.

Because Bruce was dead.

Bruce was dead and Jason hadn’t been the one to kill him. He hadn’t even been around when it had happened. He had to hear about it from the outer edges of the the hero gossip network. Jason kept waiting for rage to flair up and overcome the numbness, make him scream and howl and plot murder and the burning down of everything that made him feel anything. But the rage wouldn’t come. Jason’s Alpha scent remained steady and placid, settled like it had never been before. Shock, probably. Jason should be getting as far from Gotham as he could before the shock slid into grief and violence began once more.

Instead Jason sighed shallowly as the tunnel ahead opened into a dimly lit car park, and he killed the engine to move silently past a painfully familiar series of cars and into the Bat cave proper. He wanted the bike near for a quick escape while Jason dealt with whatever it was that Bruce had left for him.

The cave was silent when Jason reluctantly took off his helmet. He didn’t want to smell the lack of Bruce’s scent, the heart of his territory undoubtedly already marked by Dick. Neither of the Betas were likely to challenge the Alpha as a new Packleader. But the only strong smell to the cave was the old mine rust and crisp air from the narrow airways high above. Jason smelled and saw no sign of life, save the slumbering bats far above him. Strange. Maybe Dick was holding off until he had the Batsuit fitted to his preferences, before he starting rubbing his scent on everything.

Good. Jason had aimed to arrive when all good Bats and Robins were upstairs in bed, keeping the patrol timetable Alfred held as gospel. Nothing save a Justice League emergency or major villain plot would allow for even Bruce to miss out on those crucial late morning hours of sleep that kept a vigilant sane and healthy. Jason would just try his hand at breaking into the main computer, getting Bruce’s message and head out again without interaction. If that failed he’d activate the cave alarms and enjoy dragging the entire pack from their beds.

But as Jason got closer to the biggest screen in the cave he found it on and someone seated in Batman’s seat. Well, it would be Dick’s seat now, Jason supposed as he waited for Drake to react to his presence.

*

Tim wanted coffee. But the coffee he had next to him was cold and decaf, because Alfred had believed him when Tim promised he would go to bed in another half hour. That had been, Tim focused his eyes, trying to read the blurry timestamp at the top of the cave screen, two hours ago. It wasn’t that bad, Tim just needed to tidy up a few more case notes, authorise a few more hires for the new community centres, make sure the considered personal didn’t have any red flags in their files or in Tim’s own personal investigations. Then he would go up into the Wayne-less mansion.

Tim blinked and looked closer at the screen. The time he had read was from a security camera he was wiping Stephanie’s presence from. It was actually five hours since he promised he would go to bed…

Tim shrugged as much as his bruised shoulders would allow and carried on working. No point in going to sleep now, he’d mess up his sleeping patterns. Much better he carry on working and get caught up on sleep and showering later. It was the choice Bruce would make.

His typing slowed for a moment, hands shaking as they hovered over the small keyboard resting over the armrest of the main (Bruce’s) chair. Then he carried on, fingers flying over the touch keys.

Bruce was gone but Tim was still here and he could handle everything. He could keep his pack’s territory safe and do what the Pack Alpha asked and let the Pack Beta grieve and keep everything going as long as he needed to. He had to.

Stock needed to be replaced, false identities needed to be updated, ready for when a case called for them. Salaries of people who didn’t know they worked (for Batman) for the Cave, needed to be paid. Stephanie needed more funds, she was still hunting for Cass and making sure Batgirl hadn’t done something extreme in her grief. Plus Cassie expected Tim to call her once a week or she started to worry and starting talking about him seeing her therapist again. Tim was glad Cassie found it helpful to talk out her feelings about Kon and Bart’s death and everything, but Tim was fine. He was too busy to grieve, to dwell on what he lost, how alone he truly was with an entire city resting on his shoulders while Dick dealt with a single villian-

Tim stopped working and dropped his hands to his lap. That wasn’t fair. Twoface was more than a mere villain, Dick was saving all of Gotham. Tim was just dealing with the side stuff, the everyday Gotham emergencies. It was great that Dick had such faith in Tim, it was fine. Tim could handle this, he could handle everything.

A small part of Tim’s exchaused brain wondered vaguely what was that smell he picked up when he lowered his head for a moment, a smell not unlike overly sweet coffee syrup. But he dismissed it as the combination of his leftover coffee with the antiseptic bandages still covering his back. He should change those, probably, in the next day or so. Definitely change into a clean uniform before evening patrol in, he looked up at the screen again, six hours.

There was a shadow reflected in the light of the computer and for a heartbeat Tim thought it was Bruce’s profile. But Bruce was dead, so Tim saved his work and readied his battered body for whatever came next.

He was Robin. He could handle it all

*

“You smell.”

“Smells happens when you’re undoing an idiot’s attempt to stir up the gangs of Gotham.” Drake watched him out of the corner of his eye, tense but not alarmed, waiting and planning. As if he didn’t realise the secret in the air around him, the smell plucking at Jason’s instincts.

“No.” Jason swallowed, “You smell,” his emphasis on the word involuntary turned into a purr. The comforting type, one to calm the grieving Omega in front of him. What the fuck, what the actual fuck. Where the hell was Dick?

Every source Jason had used to learn about the the Robin that came after him had said he was a Beta. A Beta like Bruce. _Like Bruce, like Bruce, like Bruce_. Jason has heard those two words so often he began seeing Drake as an extension of Bruce, that had taken over Jason’s identity and remade it in his own imperfect image. It had taken a lot of time and listening to better sources to start admitting that maybe Drake was his own person, with his own set of goals and beliefs. Nobody, not even Justice League members, had mentioned Drake being an Omega.

Tim blinked red-tinged eyes and then visabily froze, not even breathing. His scent, his musty, unhappy scent grew stronger, panic now smothering over the sorrow and loneliness that flowed from him.

Jason couldn’t help himself. Tim, sitting in Bruce’s chair suddenly looked very young and lost, more an orphaned pup than functioning adult. He stepped up onto the platform slowly, further purrs resting heavy in his throat.

“It’s alright, Little-”

The flung keyboard hit him squarely in the face, blocking the sight of Tim scrambling away. Jason caught the keyboard as it fell away and took a steadying breath, breathing in again sadness and grief. Endearments were probably not the best way to start the conversation.

“It’s not what you think.” Tim’s almost calm voice came from the medic bay, his scent from the lockers at another corner entirely. “I- I rescued two kids from explosions. I didn’t wash after. It’s their scent you smell.”

Jason set down the keyboard and followed his nose, ignoring the flimsy excuse. “You need to shower then. You need to eat and sleep, Drake… Tim. Come out, I ain’t gonna do nothing’ ta ya.” He kept the alpha purr out of his voice but his accent took it’s chance to escape, Old Gotham gleefully rolling off the tongue.

Tim’s equally Old Gotham scoff, a sound of disbelief nether Dick nor Alfred could ever manage naturally, almost drew Jason off the trail of his scent. Throwing your voice was just one of the useless until vital skills a Robin learnt. Jason wasn’t going to be caught out by the unexpected familiarity of his own accent.

Except Jason found himself looking at a discarded black and yellow cape, the clotting blood and sweat on it letting off a convincing amount of scent. Smart move from someone so dirty and wounded, though the concerning amount of blood and dirt gave proof to Tim’s lack of self care.

“I repeat: not gonna hurt ya. Let’s just talk.” Jason turned back to address the cave at large. “Why don’t you call Dick, if you don’t trust me. Get him down here to mediate.” And take over concerned Alpha duties, he mentally added. When Dick saw the state of Tim; Beta, Omega or whatever, he’d go into octopus mode and Jason could sneak away and go back to being numb. His own scent was already starting to change, edging into concern for the first time since he heard the awful news.

Tim’s second scoff wasn’t as violent, a lack of anger behind the sound making it softer. “Dick’s busy. Don’t bother him.” Jason couldn’t narrow down it’s direction very well. He moved back, glanced at new lockers and showers tucked into one private corner and frowned.

“The girls?” Jason had assumed they were around, taking a more hidden role in keeping Gotham stable. He heard they were a force to be reckoned with, Barbara Gordon’s proteges let loose under her old identity.

“Have their own stuff.” Tim’s voice was level. “Just go listen to your message and leave, Todd.”

“I would love to,” Jason back-tracked his steps. “But then, when they find your unconscious ass tomorrow and my scent in the cave, assumptions will be made and I’m not in the mood to be yelled at for injuries I didn’t cause.”

“Alfred won’t yell. Just walk away.”

Jason didn’t know how to respond to that. The implication that there was no one home but Alfred and that he wouldn’t rip Jason a new one for walking away from an injured (packmate) (Omega) child after being allowed into the pack’s territory. The absolute belief in Tim’s words, that Jason could walk away from his old home with a grieving injured child in it.

So Jason held his tongue, quietened his stalk and finally tracked Tim to behind the backup generator, steady hands and twitching eyes trying to find a vein in his arm for an injection of what must have been emergency scent suppressant. Those fast acting hormones always came with a bunch of side effects, even when the user was at the peak of health.

Tim Drake was not at the peak of health. Tim Drake was barely on the plateau of basic functionality. Jason would have never been able to sneak up on him if his body wasn’t rebelling over what must have been weeks of pushing himself to the limit, forgoing rest and food and suppressants to hold the city together. He really should not have been taking hard drugs in his condition. He really should not be administering injections to himself at all.

Jason flung Tim’s cape to the left of him, done with hiding himself under its scent. The misdirection was enough for him to get a grip on Tim’s bared arm and knock away the syringe. He got a gut punch for the effort, but that was what body armour was for and he kept a grip on the arm.

“I’m not here to fight. I used my old access codes and everything. I wouldn’t have done that if I planned to do some damage.” Jason said softly to Tim’s ferociously angry face. “Let’s just go up and get ya sorted out, get some food and rest in ta ya and I’ll go nice and quiet like?” The purr slips out again, inner Alpha desperately wanting to sooth away the panic in the air.

A violent headbutt to the chin and a twist that almost turned his restraining hold into a dive to the floor, was Tim’s response. That and fresh stress and fear flowing from him in waves.

The brawl that followed then was possibly the worst fight in either boy’s career, Tim fighting on adrenaline and panic with little skill or strength behind it and Jason focusing on trying minimise the damage dealt to either of them and cut down his purring. This was not how Jason had expected his visit to go.

*

Tim didn’t know what Jason’s angle was but it had to be bad for Gotham in general and himself in particular. They had been working towards a truce, a hold fire after the gang war and Jason’s release from prison, but that was over now. No way Jason Todd would stand by and let an Omega watch over Gotham until Dick got back. Jason barely tolerated Tim as a beta at the top of his game, and a defective Omega barely holding it together was an insult to the Robin legacy.

The purring was a creative tactic, Tim had to admit as he ducked away from another grab and tried to keep his balance with his eyesight blurring. Jason’s stuttering vibrations of concern got more steady as the fight went on, like an unused engine getting warmed up. The overwhelming urge to give in to his basic instincts, relax and chirp like a child at concerned Packmate noises was strong. Would it be so bad to just relax, let the fatigue and sorrow lead him to surrendering up to the Alpha with his own scent of concern and sadness.

Yes Omega instincts, Tim told himself as he jumped away towards his gear. Surrendering to the Alpha that cut your throat and wants you dead would be a bad thing. This is why you get chemically blocked so Tim’s brain can make the decisions. He needed to knock Jason out, convince him this was all a big misunderstanding and Tim was a competent Robin, not a sad Omega failing his pack…

Jason got him in the back of the left knee and they both fell to the floor Jason about to land hard over Tim’s injured back. Usually it was easy to twist and kick, squirm away before the fall was done. Except now Tim’s arms were shaking to hard to even stop his own fall, let alone escape Jason’s bulk.

“Please,” Jason managed to catch his own weight with his hands, sparing Tim’s already seeping wounds. “Can you just relax? For two minutes? I’m not here to fight. There’s no point. What’s there to fight over? I don’t-” He lifted himself up and off of Tim completely, sitting on the cold cave floor. “I’m not here to cause trouble.”

Bullshit, Tim’s brain spat out, trying to coordinate limbs into moving, not shaking with fatigue.

Alpha, Omega instincts cooed. Sad concerned alpha got his scent on us, wants to purr at us more.

“Why-” Tim coughed, moistened his throat. “Why not fight?”

“Bruce is dead. We could rip each other to shreds and it wouldn’t change a damn thing.” With that toneless statement Jason reached down and helped Tim up into a sitting position. “There’s nothing to fight over. To fight for.” He settled down next to him and made no move to do anything but look at Tim with resignation. And purr, like a feral cat trying to sooth.

Tim wanted to argue that point violently. There was still Bruce’s legacy. And Dick. Dick wanted Tim to do his job and keep Gotham safe. He couldn’t do that while shaking on the floor with Jason purring at him.

When Tim opened his mouth to tell Jason it was fine, he could go now, a  chirp fell out, before he could clamp his lips together and suppress the childish sound of distress.

The purring next to him increased in volume. Tim would have almost prefered mocking laughter. His eyesight blurred again, his arms would not stop shaking and Jason knew he was an Omega, abandoned by everyone and pitying him.

Tim tried to choke out one last denial when Jason started to lean against him, shoulder to shoulder, mixing their scents of grief and abandonment. And then it was all over, exhaustion finally dragging him down into slumber.

*

Jason found himself with an unconscious Robin almost toppling into his lap. His involuntary purring took a long time to stop  as he looked down at the dark head leaning against his arm. This was just too much to deal with. What had been happening to his pack while he had been gone.

Not his pack. Not his problem. He could get up, leave and call the manor on his way out, letting Alfred know there was a Robin killing himself alone in the scentless cave.

Jason leaned back, let Tim fall properly into his lap and stood up, gathering the unconscious boy in his arms. He’d just take him upstairs, so Alfred didn’t have to. Just dump the kid somewhere soft and take off, forgetting this entire situation had never happened.

*

Tim woke up in his manor bedroom, in his clean sleeping clothes, fresh bandages over his injuries and an intimidatingly large bottle of water and plate of sandwiches on the side table. Alfred’s scent was peppered over everything, his fatherly grief undercut by…surprise? And the slightest hint of happiness. That was weird.

For a moment Tim thought the entire encounter had been an hallucination, brought on by too much bomb gas. Then he heard the sound of arguing coming from outside the house, near his slightly open window.

“No. No Alfred. I don’t care what he’s dealing with. Dick left you and the kid to hold down all of Gotham. You have your arm in a sling! The kid’s younger than Dick was when he went solo. What was he thinking?”

Alfred’s calm voice responded, too softly for Tim to make out as he cautiously turned onto his back and sat up.

“That’s a weak excuse and you know it! I’m gonna give him such a talking to when he finally shows up. And put down that basket, I told you I’ll do the laundry. You need to rest your arm.”

The sound of feet on gravel and the voices fading away made Tim relax enough to reach out for the water and a sandwich. He still felt awful, emotionally and physically and his scent was still present on his skin. He would need to get up and find his scent blockers soon.

But Jason was here and fussing over Alfred and hadn’t appeared to have done anything to Tim when he could have. Tim would give himself a minute or two to eat and drink, before getting up to face another day without Bruce or Dick.

“Why is there so much laundry, when there’s just the two of you?” Jason’s distant yell came from the direction of the washing line. “Whose extra bed linen is this? It looks like my old ones-”

Tim allowed himself a slim smile and opened the sandwich on his hands to find a small note in Alfred’s handwriting along with a familiar yellow pill.

_I apologies for my lax in duties of late, Master Tim. Your private matter will be sorted with the utmost discretion. I will see to it that Master Jason holds his peace as long as you wish it._

Tim swallowed the scent blocker with a long sip of water and gingerly leaned back onto his side. Alfred was back to his old self and organising things to his own liking. From the sounds of things Jason would be settled back into the Pack before evening patrol.

For the first time in months Tim looked forward to the coming day. He fell back asleep with his sandwich half eaten.

 


End file.
